


Two Different Kinds of Tension

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [77]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby. Full stop., Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28888176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: One of our lead couples has lunch with their in-laws and the other couples goes on a date.Sorry this took so long to get out. I'm back in classes and life in chaos.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [77]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 23
Kudos: 79





	Two Different Kinds of Tension

Adam is preparing to return home, watched by a very forlorn Galra. As eager as he is to go home, to get every detail of Altea back into working order, he finds a certain reluctance tugging at the back of his shirt. A part of him wants to stay.

“Do you really have to go?” Shiro asks, not for the first or last time, even though he already knows the answer. He wants Adam to stay too, or maybe he wants to follow. Neither is possible.

“Yes, I really have to go.” Adam pulls the last of his clothes from the captain’s closet, realizing just how many of his things -all of them- made it into Shiro’s quarters. “I’m leaving tomorrow with their Majesties and Pidge, as planned and expected.”

“I know. I know. I’m just really gonna miss you. You can’t blame me for that.”

“I suppose not.” Adam murmurs, laying out a set of nightclothes and a change of clothes for tomorrow on the stool up against the wall. “Though I still don’t really know what you see in me.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” Shiro hangs his shears on the wall, sweeping the trimmings off the floor below his trellises. The pieces he wants to keep are laid out on a worktable, ready to be tied and hung. All normal, innocent, except for the sly smirk on the man’s face.

Adam bristles. No one gets under his skin, sees everything underneath, the way Shiro does.

“I am a soldier, Adam. As far as I’m concerned, loyalty is the best characteristic a person can possess. The Captain takes his hand, gently tugs to pull him closer. “You fit that ideal more than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re clever, conniving, brilliant, beautiful-”

“That’s not-”

“It  _ is _ true,” Shiro insists. “You are many things, and I wonder if you’re actually living up to your true potential.”

Adam licks his lips. Gulps. Melts against Shiro’s encompassing frame. “I am happy with what I’m doing. Though I’m not happy it’s time to leave.”

“It’s probably for the best, though. At least for now. My season is coming up in another movement. It might be a good thing you’re a planet away.”

“Right.” Adam’s edges fit with Shiro’s as best it can despite the size difference between them. “Call me after so I know you’re well, and let me know if I can send you anything.”

“Definitely. I’ll probably be missing your voice anyway. Maybe you could leave something of yours behind for me?”

“Just pick something. Whatever you want.” Adam closes his eyes, wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more. I don’t want to leave you behind bonded to me.”

“I know. I’ll hold out for a day in the future, when one of us finally decides to retire. When we’re old and impotent.”

Adam scoffs. “Like we’ll like that long.” He steps back. “But I’ll look forward to it, just in case… What should we do with our last day?”

“Steal a ship and go for a joyride?” Shiro suggests. “I have something I’d like to show you.”

Adam regards his companion. “Yes, alright.”

“Excellent!” 

As he pulls Adam down the hall, he never lets go of his hand. Adam doesn’t let go either.

Lance sighs, finishing the final clasp on his vest. “Can’t believe we’re going from baby joy to lunch with Zarkon. Are we being punished?”

“I’m just surprised he actually wants to see me,” Keith admits, tossing his now ill-fitting vest aside in favor of traditional clothes. He plans to decline a new wardrobe upon his return, at least until he has the kit. There’s no point in wasting materials. “I bet it’s just out of obligation. We’ve been here a phoeb and a half and he hasn’t called upon us yet. Word’s probably reached the people by now. Do I look okay?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asks.

“Do I… I want him to regret it. Throwing me away,” Keith whispers. “I want him to know he made a mistake.”

Lance stares at him for a long moment before kissing his forehead. “If he doesn’t already know, he will. That’s a promise, beloved. As for how you look, you look like a prince of Altea. We can do better, and we will soon, but this will do for now.”

“What does better look like?”

“Like a  _ Galran _ prince of Altea. Like I said, when we go home, we’ll pick some better colors for you, and get some new jewelry made, and maybe replace this-” Lance points at Keith’s circlet. “-with that comb I gave you.”

Keith smiles, takes a deep breath. “Let’s grab Bruna and Calik. I don’t feel like walking- hi, baby!” BleepBloop scurries in, leaping into Keith’s open arms, wrapping his own arms around the prince’s neck. “Aw, I missed you too. You wanna come make a mess at lunch? Yeah, let’s go.”

“My only real competition,” Lance quips.

Keith cradles his pet, turning to his mate with a grin. “For now.”

Lance gasps, pretending offense. “That goes both ways, beloved!”

The princes mount their elk, returned this quintant by Krolia, hastening them on toward the compound at the top of the mountain. Krolia is waiting for them, smile quiet and subtle, another Galra with cheek and lip piercings standing beside her. “Bashti, take these elk to the stables; make sure they are fed and watered. Your majesties, I have been asked to escort you. His excellency has decided to eat outside today.”

Krolia leads them through halls into a courtyard bearing nothing but a table furnished with food and drink. The edge of the open ceiling is framed by columns, shaded halls beyond. The royal family is already there, Lotor speaking urgently to his father. Krolia leans in to explain. 

“One of Captain Shirogane’s men, Haxus, failed to report a few quintants ago. No one has seen him since. This makes forty-seven members of the compound militia. Others have vanished from various fleets and battalions. Zarkon believes they are simply deserters. Lotor disagrees.”

Allura catches sight of them from her seat next to Lotor, face splitting into a grin when she sees her brother. She gets up, hurrying over, throwing her arms around her brother.

“Hi! It’s so good to see you both!”

“Hey! How’s my nibling doing?” Lance pats Allura’s rounding belly.

“Nibling is fine. I’m fine too, in case you were wondering. Lotor is… resisting the urge to commit patricide-”

“Sounds normal.”

“Yes. Romelle is… less fine, but she’s relatively healthy, so that’s something.” Allura tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Lura.”

“It is what it is.” Allura smiles. “Father’s still looking, but at this point I’m not optimistic.”

“We’ll make sure she’s well taken care of, regardless.” Lance kisses his sister’s cheek, maneuvering carefully around her protruding belly. “Shall we go rescue your dear husband before he runs out of self-restraint?”

“Please and thank you,” Allura agrees. She pulls Keith into a hug. “I’m so glad to see you’re well-”

The prince pounds his fist on the table, making Allura jump. “IT IS NOT  _ NORMAL _ !!!” 

“Son, please. There is political upheaval. The people will adjust.”

Lotor seethes, jabbing a finger at his father. “You are completely-”

“Ah, Crown Prince Lancel, Prince Yorak! Welcome! I apologize for anything you might have overheard. My son and I were just having a disagreement.”

“It’s fine.” Lance waves away the emperor’s apology with a cheerful smile before helping Keith into his chair. “I’m just glad to know I’m not the only one who has the occasional screaming match with their father.”

“Oh, surely you and Alfor get along,” Honerva protests. “You are both so much alike.”

“I know.” Lance’s grin is sheepish as he takes his seat. If he notices the sly curl to the empress consort’s smile, he doesn’t show it. “I fear that’s where the problem lies. Our personalities are quite similar, but our views are quite different.”

“It is always this way with sons,” Honerva sighs. “It is for this reason I hope my sweet daughter is carrying a daughter of her own.”

Keith can  _ feel _ the way Lance bristles at Honerva’s claim to his sister and nibling. He nudges his mate with his foot under the table. 

Allura rescues them from a response. “Son, daughter, neither, either, I care not. If they are healthy and firm in their convictions, I will be satisfied.”

Zarkon grunts. “Better a son. At least let them present as male, so they’ll have better success in conquest.”

“Father, that is wildly archaic.” Lotor glares. “Conquest isn’t everything.”

“Conquest is the foundation for our entire society! If we have no conquest, we have nothing!” the emperor snaps.

Lance sighs. “Just when I think I understand you people…”

“Mnh. Understanding. A powerful thing,” Lotor agrees. “One that our peoples unfortunately struggle to find.” His gaze darts to his father with vicious accuracy.

Keith takes a deep breath, willing no one to start a fight as he starts in on his lunch. He has no real fondness for his uncle or aunt, less so as time goes on, as he processes everything these people have done to him. He meets his cousin’s eyes across the table, a flicker of understanding in his hybrid eyes.

“I’m working on it,” Lance continues, clearly trying to steer conversation. “I have a few ideas, but nothing actionable as of now… What concerns me is the fear. The locals here were terrified of me when I first arrived. It’s taken me my entire stay and a kronil attack to gain their trust, and I’m still not entirely sure that I have it.”

“They trust you,” Keith assures, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

“Mnh. They did until we got back from your den in the woods and all my scales were glowing red.”

“They what now?” Allura looks up from her lunch, eyeing her brother with bafflement. “Why would they do that?”

When Lance only shrugs, Honerva cuts in. “Your alchemical abilities are unstable, aren’t they?”

Lance nods. Keith rises to his defense. “But improving every day.”

There’s a stretch of awkward silence in the wake of Honerva’s unimpressed look.

“At any rate,” Zarkon says, breaking the silence. “You all have much to learn, including how to be respectful of tradition. The Galra will not be altering their ways to please the Alteans. It’s  _ your _ duty to make amends.”

“Make amends?” Lance frowns.

“Your people attacked us. Sooner or later, reparations must be paid.”

Lance inhales, ready to snap, but Keith kicks him under the table. The Altean bites his tongue, not willing to put Keith in the line of fire, even indirectly.

“I'm sure we’ll pay in one way or another,” Lance murmurs, thinking of his people’s declining numbers and quality of life. “We both will, I think. Having so much mistrust in your closest neighbor, it’s not good for any of us.”

Zarkon hums, watching Lance eat. He says nothing. No one does.

Keith watches his uncle, observing the way he inspects his mate. He can sense Honerva observing them, too. A glance at his cousin and sister-in-law shows that they’ve both noticed the imperial couple’s fixation on them. He wonders suddenly if his uncle can tell he’s pregnant, is already deciding how to use their kit the moment they’re born. Possibly before, if he can come up with something. 

Have they made a mistake?

Keith finds Lance’s hand under the table, guides it to where his blade is concealed at his hip, a silent warning that they might be in danger. Lance laces their fingers together, acknowledging his concerns, promising support.

It only occurs to Keith much later that Lance was extremely careful not to reveal how much authority he has on Altea. He suspects that was for the best. 

“So, you’ve seen rivers by now, and rain, and thunderstorms, but have you ever seen a sea?”” Shiro asks.

“I have not. I assume by your tone they are impressive?”

“I find them impressive, so I figure an Altean would as well. And this particular place has sentimental value to me.”

“Very well, then,” Adam sighs, pretending to find the excursion tedious. “Show me.”

Shiro kisses his cheek. “Always so contrary. I’ll settle us a ways back from the shore… This is where I was born, though it was a village at the time. It was destroyed in a skirmish before I lost my first set of teeth.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Mnh. Thank you, but I don’t really remember enough to be sorry myself.”

They both know that’s why Adam is sorry, but neither mentions it.

Shiro settles their ‘borrowed’ craft down on a flat bit of orange rock speckled with green corals, lowers the ramp. Adam takes the Galra’s hand preemptively, finding the action oddly satisfying. “Show me your sea, then. And what’s left of your first home.”

Shiro leads him from the craft, onto a swath of rock formations. The air smells of salt. “Watch your step. It’s just this way. I would have landed closer, but there’s not much more than sand where we’re going. It’s not good for the craft.”

Shiro leads him down the smoothed mounds of stone and around a bend, revealing a view of blue sky and brilliant green lagoon, waves curling over bright yellow sands. There are large, winged reptiles flapping overhead, diving into the water. In the distance, a great beast breaches the water, scales glinting in the sunlight, fins like wings as it sails long over the water.

“Well, here it is. The, um. The headman’s house was over there-” Shiro points their joined hands across the sand to the other side of the lagoon. “And there was a dock in the middle that stretched to the edge of the lagoon and across in both directions. The homes were made of wood and reeds, and they floated on the water.”

“What happened when it stormed?”

“We came ashore and hid in the cave cellars. Or so I’ve been told.” Shiro smiles. “We were a fishing village, and our livelihood came from the sea. Can you imagine it? Me? A fisherman?! But who knows, maybe I would have been good at it. Happy, even.”

“I can’t quite see you sitting on a mat of floating reeds, catching fish,” Adam muses. “I don’t think you could sit still long enough, if fishing actually works as I’ve heard it does.”

“With a stick and a string? Yes, that’s how it works.”

“Definitely not for you.” Adam gazes out at the green water, wind in his hair, salt in his nose, sun on his skin. “Then again, I imagine you would have loved the view. You could fish, and stare at it all day, imagining what’s beneath and on the other side.”

Shiro laughs. “I do think about it! Whenever I find the time to come here, I think about it… I’d like to take you back here, one day. To stay a few quintants, if it’s agreeable to you. I know it’s beneath you, but-”

Adam stops short, turning Shiro to face him. “It’s not. Nothing about you is beneath me, Takashi. Nothing at all. Please, if you believe nothing else, believe that.”

“If you say so.” The soldier gives him a crooked smile before leaning in to kiss him.

For once in his life, Adam decides not to resist change, or even hesitate, choosing instead to drown, to reciprocate. He pours as much into the kiss as he can, trying his best to feel sincere. 

He lets their tongues twist, one smooth, one raspy. His fingers curl into the Galra’s short hair as their bodies press close together.

When they finally break apart, because that’s how it always is, Shiro’s gaze is part surprise, part questioning.

“I will miss you, Shiro. Every day.” It’s imperative that Shiro believes him. 

“I’ll miss you too. Every day.” The Galra smiles, gray eyes shockingly warm.

Adam turns back to the sea, the waves sighing in his ears. “We should come back here someday. It’s quiet.”

“If ever we both find a day off, we will. But for this quintant, I think we have time for a walk?”

“Yes, we do.” 

Grinning, Shiro reclaims his hand, leading him off across the sand, pointing out the remains of some architecture, a net stuck fast in a rockface.

When they return late in the evening, and Adam has time to pack all but the very last of his things, he finds hidden within them a small glass bottle full of bright yellow sand and a few tiny shells.

“Did you put this in here?”

“Yes. It’s a gift. I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

Adam stares at the bottle, index finger running over a chip in the cork, a scratch in the glass. It’s an incredibly sweet gift, one he hadn’t expected.

“Takashi, will you do something for me?”

“Of course, if I can.”

“Will you- Will you write to me? Writing’s easier than talking.”

“Sure.” Shiro’s hands find his waist. “I look forward to reading what you have to write.”

“And I look forward to more gifts.”

Shiro chuckles. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Adam believes him. He promises himself he’ll reciprocate.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact: Klance and Company say their goodbyes.


End file.
